


I'd never leave you.

by Jack_writes_Fics



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Greg lestrade is practically sherlocks dad, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Paternal Greg Lestrade, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jack_writes_Fics/pseuds/Jack_writes_Fics
Summary: Greg punched Sherlock after he attacked Anderson, when Greg got home he fought with Mycroft resulting in Greg running away.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 169





	1. I'd never leave you

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Hope you all like this fic! Im currently really motivated to write (especially at night) and this is one of the things that popped into my head. Enjoy!

"You punched him!" 

"I had to!" Gregory snapped at his partner, he has had enough of that pointless argument. They both stood in their kitchen for half an hour yelling at each other.

"You broke his nose! He could need surgery!" Mycroft yelled angrily.

"Your brother was the one who attacked Anderson. As Donovan tried to bring them apart he kicked her! It was my last resort!" Greg growled, holding an ice pack to his black eye.

"They provoked it. It was a wonder it didn't happen sooner, with all the name-calling." Mycroft defended Sherlock viciously, still angry and disappointed at himself for not standing up for him in their childhood. He can't see Sherlock getting bullied again.

"Well, he wasn't a sunshine to them either." Greg barked angrily. Deep down he knew that he was wrong and overreacted at Sherlock, but hatred and anger blurred his rational thinking. He overreacted because he was stressed, his most recent case is tough and gory and just genuinely not pretty and linked to extreme amounts of paperwork.

"You know what? This is stupid. I hate this discussion. I'm leaving!" Greg turned around just in time to miss the look of hurt on Mycroft's face. 

He aggressively threw the ice pack on the kitchen table, grabbed his jacket, threw it on and stomped off, walking into the night, bright moonshine on his face. 

He wasn't sure where he was going but he didn't care, as long as he got far away from Mycroft. He decided to first walk around in the nearby park to calm himself down.

He walked in, and was immediately greeted by the smell of flowers. He loved that park. He loves his walks on the weekend with Mycroft. Just wandering around with his darling, stopping every once in a while to smell a flower. He loves that, loves the simplicity and domesticy of quiet walks in the park, Mycroft grabbing his hand when they're alone.

Gregory stopped on top of a hill, a small creek blubbering in front of it. It was their favourite picnic place. He sat down, closed his eyes and listened for a while. They had their first real kiss here. Mycroft was reading him from a book, he stopped, then he suddenly leaned in and kissed Greg. It was beautiful.

He opened his eyes and stood up. He had to get back, had to fix this. He should have never punched Sherlock, should have never yelled at Mycroft. He ran through the park, the moonlight shining brightly on his face.

His feet hit the ground over and over again, but then he slipped. He didn't see the mud at first, but quickly acknowledged it's existence when he landed face first in it. 

"Bloody hell." He cussed and stood up again. He looked down on himself with disgust. He was covered in mud, and looked truly filthy. He'll definitely shower at home.

Home.

That's all he wanted right now. Wanted to cuddle up to Mycroft and apologise a thousand times. Mycroft is his home.

He started the walk home. Soon he was out of the park's entrance and on the street. He jogged the rest of the way and soon stood in front of Mycroft's manor. He put his fingerprints and the passcode in and the door opened. It was dark and quiet inside, Mycroft must be already in bed.

Greg crept up the stairs and went into the bathroom a few rooms next to their bedroom. They have a bathroom attached to their bedroom, but Greg rarely ever uses it since Mycroft's migraines get so bad even the light through the door slit hurts him.

He quickly undressed himself and threw his clothes in the laundry basket for the housekeeper to take care of later. He stepped in the shower and turned it on, waiting till the water turned warm and then stepping under it. 

The warm water was relaxing his aching muscles, making him forget everything that happened for a second. 

But he can't stand there forever, and the water is already getting colder, so he quickly scrubbed himself clean and stepped out again. He dried himself off with one of their fluffy towels, and walked out of the bathroom, completely nude.

He got to their dark bedroom and he grabbed his pyjama trousers and an old band shirt laying on a chair and got dressed. He carefully slipped in bed next to Mycroft.

He laid there on his back and looked at Mycroft. Even though Mycroft had his back turned to him, he knew the politician wasn't sleeping, he was far too tense and didn't look peaceful and sleepy at all. 

"I know you aren't sleeping. And I want you to know that I'm really sorry. I overreacted at Sherlock and then on you. Can you forgive me?"

"I didn't think you'd come back." Mycroft said and then turned around to face him. "Of course I forgive you."

"What? Of course i came back! Myc, my darling, i'd never leave you. I love you and I shouldn't have ran away like that." Greg looked into his eyes and gave him a small peck on the lips.

Mycroft sighed tiredly and pulled him in a kiss again, a bit more passionately this time. "You wouldn't have been the first to leave me like that. They all got overfed with me and ran away..." he said with a little sad smile on his lips.

"I would never do something like that, Mycie. I don't ever want to fight with you like that again." Greg said and pulled him into his arms.

"Gregory, sweetheart… you know all too well I hate that nickname." He murmured against his chest.

"Nah, you love it when I say it." He replied with a smile on his face. Greg planted a small kiss on Mycroft's hair.

"True." Mycroft said with a tired voice. Soon enough Mycroft fell asleep on his chest, Greg's arm settled on Mycroft's body.

And as he laid there, looking all peaceful and happy, Greg realised he wanted to spend forever with that man. He wanted that Mycroft's heart never gets broken again, that "the iceman" never has to freeze again. 


	2. He still loves me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's side of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thats the second chapter which i finished in record time. Hope you enjoy it! I still have an idea of the side of Sherlock and John in the story and im thinking about writing it.

They were yelling at each other, Gregory's volume increasing by the minute. Mycroft didn't want it to end like this. He never wanted it to end, he wanted that they both calm down and make up and forget about this incident. But Mycroft still felt like he had to protect his baby brother, he hadn't done it enough in their childhood, he never tried to stop the bullying. 

Even though Mycroft didn't show it, he was a bit scared. A bit ironic he thought, seeing how he fearlessly endures meetings which decide over the fate of all of Britain. He had been hit by an Ex Boyfriend before, and while he didn't think that Gregory, a policeman, a man of the law, would really throw a punch at him, the slight fear of being harmed stayed.

Then Gregory just ran away. Mycroft stood there in the kitchen, baffled. He didn't think Gregory was like the others, thought he was special, but all his Boyfriends did the same thing. Run away when they get fed up with him.

He was already quite used to being left like this. Alone and angry at himself for allowing his heart to be broken like that again. Allowing anyone ever in was his mistake, his heart just wasn't built for two. 

Mycroft sat down at the kitchen table and tried to breathe. In, and out again. Slowly calming himself down. Now that the initial shock and anger was gone, he was feeling extremely sad. Gregory really seemed different, seemed better. Yes, he was a gruffy looking guy, with grey stubble on his jaw, but his heart seemed kind and sweet.

Mycroft felt tears in his eyes. No, he has to stop. He can't allow himself to cry now, he has to stay strong. Mycroft had to do something else. He decided to make himself tea.

He put on the kettle, and poured two cups out of habit, before realising Gregory was gone. This time he couldn't stop himself from crying. It wasn't those pretty tears you see on the telly, it was full blown ugly sobbing. He held his face in his hands and tried to calm himself again, failing terribly.

He felt like he was suffocating. He wanted his heart to freeze again, colder than it ever was before, but he couldn't. He couldn't get himself to stop loving Gregory. He still couldn't even quite grasp what happened. 

He thought about all the happy times they had. All those beautiful memories in their own giant room in his mind palace. Mycroft couldn't burn that room down. 

He had to get away, he had to get this day over quickly. He stood up, forgetting the tea on the table, and went into his garden. 

He watered some plants, and sat under his favourite tree for a while. As Mycroft's head hit the rough wood, he let out a sigh. Gregory won't come back, he lost him forever. He shouldn't be sad, he never was able to maintain a healthy relationship, so why be sad about it? He was too antisocial and proud to be happy with someone else, and yet he couldn't help but feel a deep loneliness.

He sat there for what felt like hours, in reality it was probably just mere minutes. He stood up and walked through the manor into their- no, his bedroom. He undressed and looked into his mirror. He hated his reflection, Gregory was the first and only person to make him feel good about it.

He dressed himself in his pyjamas and sat on his bed, looking at the book on his bedside table. He could read for a while, but it was already late and if he wants sleep he should probably go to bed now.

He laid down, but he couldn't seem to fall asleep. He tossed and turned, but nothing happened. He heard his inner clock tick, tick, tick, and the sound was so loud it hurt his head. Tick, tick, tick once was a small sound, which ultimately served the purpose of reminding him of the time, resulting in his inner clock always being right. Now it was pure torture, reminding him of how long Gregory was gone.

Mycroft felt lost. He turned around, grabbed Gregory's pillow and switched it with his own, then turned around facing his side again. It smelled good, smelled exactly like Gregory. He heard footsteps, but reminded himself that nobody was coming back here, and that it either was his imagination, robbers ready to kill him or assassins getting paid to kill him. If he was honest to himself he wouldn't mind either.

He tried to concentrate on the smell of Gregory's pillow. His cologne smells nice and comforting and just like... home.

A thing he couldn't imagine was the bed dipping beside him and a soft deep voice saying; "I know you aren't sleeping. And I want you to know that I'm really sorry. I overreacted at Sherlock and then on you. Can you forgive me?"

Gregory came back! His heart did a metaphorical leap of happiness. Mycroft felt happier than ever before. "I didn't think you'd come back. Of course I forgive you." Mycroft said, and looked at him.

They talked about the incident and Gregory apologised profusely and swore how he would never leave him and they were both finally happy again. Mycroft cuddled up to him and he felt complete, like Gregory was the other half of his heart. 

Mycroft realised that he never wants this to change. Wanted that Gregory stays with him and loves him forever. He wants to get kissed in the morning and cuddled in the night till he falls asleep by him. He slowly fell asleep with these thoughts, little did he know that Gregory was thinking the same. 

But before he fell asleep he made a mental note, he had to text Anthea in the morning they soon had to go to a good jeweler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was the chapter of Mycroft's side. Hope you enjoyed it!


	3. He called you WHAT!?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson insulted Sherlock again, and after he said a particularly terrible word about John and Sherlock, Sherlock gets extremely angry and violent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a homophobic slur, and I want to be clear, the word that was said is wrong and very bad and I in no way identify with the people that would say this word under any circumstance.

"Hey, how's your boy toy doing, freak?" Anderson said to Sherlock, a smug grin on his face, Donovan snickering beside him. 

"Why don't you mind your own business, imbecile?" Sherlock snarled back, coming to a halt in front of them. John and Sherlock had been together for about a month now, but they haven't made it official yet. 

He hoped John would return from the loo soon, he needed somebody to help him, or else things might get violent.

"We saw you snogging after the last case. We're not surprised you get turned on by cut open corpses, freak."

Sherlock couldn't help but see a certain resemblance between Anderson and his childhood bullies. God, how much he hated them. They teared apart his first real relationship, it was with a boy who always used to watch him from the back of the class, till one day he decided to ask him out and Sherlock was over the moon. He was always nice to him, till Sherlock's bullies attacked them, about a month after they got together. He turned away from him after that, started bad mouthing him and after school he couldn't help but cry, resulting in getting beat up for it by his own first love and the bullies that made him do it.

"Aw, are you speechless now that we know that you get turned on by lifeless cut up bodies? Don't worry, we knew it before we actually saw that, freak." Donovan laughed mockingly. 

Sherlock stood there, and couldn't move. All these terrible words, and he didn't even do anything. He decided to try and be nicer, and barely insulted them today, yet still they bullies him for the person he loved. They truly were like his childhood bullies, no matter what he did, he always ended up being mocked and degraded. 

"You are suddenly so quiet. Speak, faggot!" Anderson growled, and a fire started to burn deep within Sherlock, the heat coursing through his entire body, making him see red. "What did you just call me?" He demanded in an abrupt, but quiet voice, barely above a whisper. 

"I called you what you and your boy toy truly are, you're fagg-" he didn't even get to finish the word when he found himself getting tackled to the ground, Sherlock now on top of him, swinging back his fist, ready to bash his face in, which he, after a few moments, actually did. 

He threw punch after punch, Donovan, who was just staring in shock a few second ago, was trying to pull him away from Anderson, and in response he kicked her in the belly, making her double over in pain.

Sherlock was hearing screams and shouts, and suddenly he was pulled off of Anderson with brutal force. He kicked and yelled, trying to make the person behind him let him go and make known why he did it, but before he knew it he was forcefully being turned around, and came face to face with DI Lestrade. His face was red and angry, and then something happened. Something Sherlock had never thought of him. 

The man that Sherlock once thought of as a father figure swung back his fist, connecting his fist with his nose resulting in a sharp pain and an audible gross crack and sending Sherlock flying back. He landed on his side, laying ride next to Anderson, and watched Lestrade pant in anger, his face still red and his expression dangerous. Sherlock decided that this fight was lost and it was better for his health and their friendship, well, at least what was left of it, to just let his head meet the floor and close his eyes, going inside his mindpalace trying to sort his feelings.

He was angry, sad, disappointed but there was one emotion that stood out. He felt betrayed. Lestrade used to be like a father to him, and no matter what exactly he did, he never got this violent. It wasn't fair, he felt like he did nothing wrong. Anderson had no right to call him and John that. Had no right to insult his dear John. 

"Sherlock? Are you still with us?" John's voice came through to his mind palace. He sounded a bit angry, but Sherlock still opened his eyes. "Yes, I am conscious." He replied and studied John's face, never daring to quite meeting his eyes. 

"We should probably get you to a hospital."

* * *

John was carefully wrapping his bruised and split knuckles in a bandage, John had to do it, since Sherlock refused to get it done by a nurse. 

"Why did you attack him?" 

"What?" Sherlock asked, taking aback by the sudden question. 

"Why did you attack Anderson? I know he and Donovan are fans of name calling, but it never got so bad that you bashed his face in." John asked calmly. He was angry at him at first too, but something told him that Sherlock did not do it without a bigger reason. He may be a person that easily overreacts in certain situations, but Sherlock isn't a brute, John knows that.

"He said something. Something particularly nasty, and my blood was boiling. I couldn't help myself, im sorry." Sherlock looked around in the ER, spotting several children with all sorts of different injuries.

"What did he say?" There's probably not much to say to make Sherlock this aggressive, so he wondered what in particular he said.

"He called us..." Sherlock looked around again, spotting a little girl, probably about 7, with a broken arm on the chair next to his, about 1 meter away. Does he really want a child this young and impressionable to hear  **_this_ ** particularly nasty word? 

"He called us… could you please lean in and give me your ear? I'd rather not say infront of children." 

When Sherlock whispered it in his ear, John felt his blood boil too. "He said what!?" He said a bit louder than he planned to. "Oh god! I'm so sorry I was angry at you!"

"It's okay John. You only saw the end of it and It did look bad on my behalf." Sherlock muttered. "Can we please get home?"

"Of course, Sherl." John stood up and pressed a small kiss to his temple. "Let's go home." 


	4. He deserved it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson gets yelled at

"Philip Anderson! Sally Donovan! In my office right NOW!" The whole department looked at them, trying to figure out what they did to make their boss this angry.

It was now a week after the incident and Anderson was on sick leave while Lestrade took some 'personal time'. 

Anderson's face still looked really bad. His lip was split, his nose was definitely broken, and he had two black eyes, his cheek was also badly bruised and he had a small gash across it.

So Sally and Philip slowly walked up to the office, looked at each other and then sighed. They were definitely in for a ride. Anderson wasn't really that religious anymore, but figured quickly tapping the cross on his upper body couldn't hurt. He carefully and slowly opened the office door. 

Inside sat Lestrade with an angry expression on his face. He was leaning over his desk, a coffee in hand, having a dark glittering in his eyes as he glared at both of them.

"Come in and close the door. Now sit." They quickly complied, scared of the consequences they already would have to face. 

"You probably know why I called you here." Lestrade took a sip from his coffee. "Well, why don't I tell you a funny little story that happened just about 5 days ago?" He leaned back, looking at their scared expression. Good, they should be scared.

"Um, okay..." Sally said, feeling a bit bolder than Anderson, who suspiciously looked like he was about to pee himself in fear.

"As you both know, I took some personal time last week, to resolve some stress at home. You know that right?" He knows they know it. He just wanted to see them stutter and stumble over their words.

"Ehrm, yes, yeah..." Anderson forced himself to say through gritted teeth, scared of what will come next.

"So, back to the story. It was morning and I was in the kitchen, listening to music, trying to relax a little while preparing a breakfast for two. Then, much to my surprise, I heard the phone ring. A few minutes later my partner entered the kitchen, fuming, and guess what  **_he_ ** told me  **_he_ ** just heard on the phone."

At this moment Anderson knew, whatever he said, he won't get away from this unharmed. Sally looked at him and no matter how much she tried, she could not feel sorry for him. What he said was terrible and he did deserve this.

"John called, because our dear Anderson decided to enlighten my partner's dear baby brother, Sherlock, of his favorite curse word for, I quote "People like that". Would you like to say something to that, Anderson?"

Anderson swallowed soundly. He was dead meat. Now he wasn't only scared of his boss, but he also has heard some horror stories about Sherlock's brother, and he did not want to disappear with nobody remembering him.

He tried to calm himself. Come on Philip, you got this. "Um… in my defense sir, he did deser-" 

"No he did not and you know that! Nobody deserves to be called that!" Lestrade yelled and stood up, slamming his hands on his desk. Only now did Anderson realize how much taller and physically stronger his boss really is. "Do you know how many feelings one can hurt with this word? Do you know how much it hurts to be discriminated against? That was discrimination, Anderson! Donovan, what do you think of this?" He yelled, glaring at Anderson and then at Donovan. 

"What he said was terrible and inexcusable, sir, and I'm sorry for not stopping him." Donovan said, and successfully ignored the pleading look on Anderson's face as she said it.

"Anderson, I will suspend you for 2 months and you will be forced to partake in an online course about workplace discrimination. Donovan, do better next time." Greg growled. "Now get out! The both of you! Anderson, hand me your batch!"

* * *

Later Lestrade sat in his office, kneading one of those weird anti-stress balls in his fist. The day was stressful and seemed to be so much longer than usually. Mycroft would soon need to bring him to another getaway on some far-away island. 

He is still feeling extremely guilty for punching Sherlock. The poor guy barely did anything and got abused so terribly. He really needs to apologize the next time he sees him. Yes, the boy often was rather harsh, but he never means to do any harm. He just can't help it and then gets bullied for it.

He got ripped out of his thoughts by a small shy knock. "Lestrade?" Came a small weirdly sounding voice through the door.

"Come in." He called, and saw Sherlock quickly enter his office and close the door behind himself. "Hello..." he said, and now Greg realized why his voice sounded so weird. His nose is broken and a bandaid was covering it. 

"Is there any particular reason that you came to my office today? I currently don't have any cases for you, Sherlock." He said, eyeing the boy carefully. Sherlock looked up at him, his ocean blue eyes shining full of sadness. "You didn't have to scream at them. It wasn't even important, you should have just let it go Lestrade. I overreacted at something that wasn't important and I'm sorry for that."

Greg couldn't understand what he just heard. It was of course important! "Sherlock, what he did was a terrible case of discrimination. And he can't just talk to you, or anyone like that! And of course is this issue important! And punishing him was important too."

He slowly stood up and walked over to Sherlock. "Yes, you might have overreacted a bit buddy, but I did too. I should have never punched you." He pulled Sherlock into a warm hug, which immediately caused him to make himself smaller and cuddle himself to Lestrades chest. 

"I hurt him, dad! I wanted to be nicer to other people and then I punched him till he looked like that. I feel like a failure." Sherlock hugged him back, and slowly tears started to roll down his cheek.

"Hey. It's okay son. Don't torture yourself over this, he was an ass and got what he deserved, son." Lestrade carefully placed a small kiss on top of Sherlock's hair.

After a while they moved to the couch, and Greg still tried to comfort the poor boy. Soon Sherlock fell asleep on top of Greg's chest and he carefully watched him, happy that he finally stopped crying and now looked so peaceful. Greg carefully stroked over his hair and then fell asleep himself.

John came soon with Mycroft in tow to pick their partners up. They both couldn't help but take a lot of photos of the unbelievably cute scene before them. 

Greg was lightly snoring, his mouth slightly open and drool running down his chin, while Sherlock held onto his shirt. They both had a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im not sure if this work is ended now. I stlll have some ideas but i still have to figure out how i could implement them.


End file.
